


Fans of Skulduggery

by deskclutter



Category: Stardust - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Assassins, Bickering, Community: 31_days, F/M, Gen, Kissing, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-25
Updated: 2010-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-10 06:35:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deskclutter/pseuds/deskclutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On their retirement into the duties of state, Yvaine and Tristran adapt to life in Stormhold, which is not wholly unexciting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fans of Skulduggery

**Title:** Fans of Skulduggery  
**Day/Theme:** October 14th / a kiss in the corner of your mouth  
**Series:** Stardust  
**Character/Pairing:** Tristran/Yvaine  
**Rating:** PG

The chandelier light sparkles over the tasteful sparkles on her gown, the little rainbows trailing around her on the floor as little ghosts. Glasses clinked and subtle chatter flits around the room; opulence suffuses over the bare rock from which Stormhold was carved.

Yvaine had expected a more mundane sort of life when she and Tristran arrived at Stormhold. Castle life and a gypsy lifestyle: the two do not compare save for the seed of idealistic romanticism in both and reality is a far harsher mistress than romance accounts for. Yvaine understood, of course, not being a romantic herself.

Castle life, nevertheless, has not been quite so uneventful. Already there have been assassination attempts on Tristran's life: poisons in his goblet or on his plate, an inexplicable rash of masked men skulking around with dubious intent. They no longer had a unicorn to warn them of the first, though Lady Una assured Yvaine that in her father's day there had been a stable full of them for the express purpose, but Yvaine is kin to them and has her own way of dealing with poison. A star's heart grants life, and a little known fact about stardust is that it neutralises poisons.

As to the second, Tristran Thorne is skilled in swordplay, and years of dealing with perils such as giant eagles and heart-hungry witches have ingrained in him experience and a subtler sort of paranoia that good rulers cultivate because the ones who do not die instead. Yvaine has caught sight of masked men darting down the halls away from her husband's chambers, doubtless fleeing from his naked blade.

Yvaine is not perturbed by that sort of skulduggery. No, she much prefers it to the endless tedium of nights such as these, where as Lady of Stormhold she is obliged to be nice to all the simpering women and obsequious men who throng around the room.She cannot see the sky from here, and the chandelier is a poor substitute for her sisters high in the sky with their mother.

With assassins at least one knows where one stands. Yvaine can hardly ferret out the same here, with women who have spent lifetimes perfecting the slyly barbed speech of politics. She sees little point in trying, but for Tristran's sake, she does. They hold fans at their sides, and with a subtle flick of the wrist, they speak. Much of it is the mindless flirting that always occurs at events such as these, but who knows what evil lurks among the multitude of flickery? Yvaine practised at it for an entire week once, and to this day her wrist twinges when she thinks of it. Yvaine has an inkling of the danger.

Tristran laughs at her, which is quite unfair, considering it is for his sake she is doing it at all, and she informed him so. He smiled, not a bit contrite. "I doubt they send co-conspirators messages via fan, and even more that they would teach the code to you if they did," he smiled, and she hmph-ed. "Mostly," Tristran said, "ladies use their fans to coax kisses from their gentlemen friends."

"I see little need of a fan for that," Yvaine said, and Tristran laughed, for it was true, and then he kissed her to prove it so to the spies who might be lurking around the hold.

Her eyes narrow suddenly as she watches Lady Laverre as she signals to Baron Umbrecht. She doesn't recognise that wrist flick, and she's fairly conversant in the language by now. Carefully, she mingles her way to Tristran's side. "I might keep an eye on Lady Laverre and Baron Umbrecht," she tells him demurely, her fan fluttering like the patter of a bird's heart -- hard, quick, and nervous.

"Is this about that flicking nonsense?" Tristran smiles indulgently, and even as she is getting ready to lash him with her tongue for presuming her ignorance, his eyes are serious, and he carefully signals the guards with his fore and little finger, so she subsides. "Thank you," he tells her quietly.

"It was nothing," Yvaine says. "We are yet equals in this game, Tristran Thorne."

"No," says Tristran. "The queen is always more important than the king in chess. Now, we'd best create a diversion."

Yvaine flicks her wrist meaningfully. Tristran shoots her a glance equal parts startled and amused, and he leans in to kiss her in front of all their guests. "Perhaps check his pockets for a mask," she suggests a moment before his lips descend, two heartbeats before traitors take advantage of the hubbub and are summarily arrested.


End file.
